


I Need a Hero

by transformersnewfan



Series: Transformersnewfan's AU of Fanfictions [4]
Category: Ghost Adventures (TV), RPF - Fandom, The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, crossover - Fandom
Genre: Cybertron, GAC, Gen, Paranormal, Prison, Real People Fanfiction, Scary, Shockwave fustrated, Supernational, Zak folk dancing, ghost story, old prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transformersnewfan/pseuds/transformersnewfan
Summary: In desperate need of funds, Shockwave hires a paranormal investigator group to film their television show on Cybertron.  But when the humans visit a haunted prison, they get more than they bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1:

Transformers Fanfiction: I Need A Hero

By Transformersnewfan

Summary: In desperate need of funds, Shockwave hires a paranormal investigator group to film their television show on Cybertron. But when the humans visit a haunted prison, they get more than they bargained for.

Prequel to “If Only You Know,” which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275209/chapters/38059319

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13093504/1/If-Only-You-Knew

Disclaimers: All Transformers belong to Hasbro. Ghost Adventures belongs Zak Bagans and the Travel channel. Original character of Gravechaser was created by LadyClassical and Transformersnewfan.

 

This story is set a year before the events of “If Only You Knew.”

 

Chapter 1:

At the Iacon Capital, deep in the spark of Cybertron, the annual State of the Planet Address was taking place.

President Shockwave was making his semi-annual address of the assembly. Seated at his right was Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons; Soundwave watched from the front rows, he had the rank and authority to sit on the solera but had no desire for the glory. Instead, he sat amongst his six sons; the youngest, Ratbat, was asleep in his chestdeck.

Almost all the Decepticons were in attendance: The Triple Changers, the Coneheads, the Constructicons, the Combaticons, the Stunticons, etc.

With most of the command structure in attendance, Starscream stayed behind on their Earth Base, with Thundercracker and Skywarp. The red and white Seeker was named Designated Survivor. This was done to guarantee continuity of Decepticon government in the event of a catastrophic disaster that killed the President, Decepticon Leader, or the many officials in the line of succession. Unofficially, this was done because Starscream was carrying his triplets and was prohibited from Space Bridge travel.

Also in attendance was the President of the United States, the Prime Minister of Britain, many other human world leaders, the Emperor of Mars, the Junkions, and various monarchs, rulers, and czars from the surrounding planets. And, seated in the back, was the Leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime, who was there on a special visa.

There were also many reporters from the Trans-Galaxy media, and the entire event was broadcast live.

“This past year also saw Cybertron establish her new highway connecting Polyhex to Iacon,” Shockwave read his speech aloud to the utterly disinterested audience, but this was mostly because his presentation had gone on for well over three hours already, “thus concluding a four-year project at the cost of nearly thirty million credits.”

As he concluded his address, Shockwave’s already very serious demeanor became morose, “And lastly, I would like to update everyone on the historic memorial shrine in Iacon Square. After nearly seventeen years in the planning stage, the shrine will be named in honor of the Helixian rebel fighters, who fought bravely against the Elite Guard during the Golden Age Battle.” He turned the pages, “Enclosed in your press packets is my extensively detailed financial report on the shrine,” he looked up from his notes, “turn to page forty-seven, please,” as he himself did so.

There was an audible groan from the assembly.

“How much longer is he gonna talk, Pop?” Rumble asked, “We’ve been here all day.”

“Not much longer,” Soundwave whispered back, “Megatron is scheduled to speak next.”

“As you can see,” Shockwave explained to the audience, “while the project is currently on track, the projected costs outweigh what had been budgeted by several million credits. I cannot stress to you how serious our financial situation is at this time.” He looked out into the crowd, “I will need to research alternative fundraising ventures.”

But by now, many in attendance had tuned Shockwave out, due to either boredom, hunger, or had been put to sleep by his monotone vocals. Astrotrain let out a snore. At the same time, Megatron stood, holding his datapad, and rocked on his heels in readiness to speak.

“Are there any questions?” Shockwave asked the crowd, before stating defeatedly, “Hearing none, this concludes my financial report. Thank you.”

There was only a smattering of polite applause.

Only Shockwave’s loyal bodyguard, a Vehicon named George, clapped with gusto, “YEA! YOU DID IT, BOSS!”

As Shockwave sat down to Megatron’s left, the former Gladiator took the podium, and spoke both extemporaneously and from his notes.

“My fellow Cybertronians,” he began, “Mr. President, your Royal Highnesses, your Excellencies, fellow Decepticons, members of the Trans-Galaxy media,” his lip components curled in sarcasm, “Optimus Prime,” and finished with a sincere smile, “and of course, Ma.”

His Mother, the former Gladiator Esmeralda, nodded from the front row as the audience responded positively.

“The time is now,” Megatron spoke in his most serious tone, “the time has come, my fellow Cybertronians, that we must act in order to right a great injustice. A great injustice that has been perpetuated for far too long. Enough is enough. It is time that we make things right. I call on the members of the Cybertronian Gladiatorial Hall of Fame to finally induct Whirl into her ranks.”

“HERE, HERE!” Astrotrain shouted.

“YAY BABY!” Blitzwing stated with gusto.

The Helicopter-Bot in question nodded and waved; he was seated in the center of the Dress Circle, or Mezzanine; a personal guest of the Decepticon Leader.

“Whirl competed in more than one-hundred and twenty-seven matches,” Megatron continued, “achieving finals and semi-finals in over ninety-five of his matches. In the Arena, Whirl was living proof that insanity in action was an effective strategy. With logic and wit on his side, Whirl turned crazy into an extremely creative weapon. Many times, I personally witnessed him wielding his dual blades, spinning them in mid-air as he ran towards his opponents, who would flee in terror at his absolutely insane maneuverers. His Helicopter Alt-Mode allowed him to move with the finest agility; he would bob, spin, dive, weave, and bank, as if he was out of control,” he smiled, “or someone totally out of his processor.”

Cy-Kill hooted and applauded loudly.

“I think we can all agree,” Megatron finished with a bang, “those of us that are already in the Hall of Fame, myself, my Mother, Esmeralda, Cy-Kill, Astrotrain, Blitzwing, Clinch, and of course, Impactor,” he pounded on his chestplates now, “we call on the committee, we call on you now, the time has come, and the time is now, to advance the long-overdue inclusion of Whirl into the Cybertronian Gladiatorial Hall of Fame!!!”

The crowd thundered with applause! Everyone, from Transformers to humans to Martians, stood and clapped, roaring with cheers and calls, “WHIRL! WHIRL! WHIRL!”

The Helicopter-Bot stood and waved, and the crowd got even louder with their applause!

And while Shockwave stood and clapped with the crowd, it was not the tone he had intended to end the State of the Planet Address on; there were serious issues with the memorial shrine in Iacon Square.

But then Megatron stated, “This adjourns our annual State of the Planet Address. Thank you all, thank you!” He waved and left the podium, signaling the end of the meeting.

Everyone was standing up and began to gather their gear; the media packing up their cameras and microphones; the former Gladiators chest-bumping.

 

Shockwave waited for everyone to leave the auditorium; he sat, watching the crowd disperse, and finally, the Vehicon auditorium crew turning off the spotlights and the Vehicon janitorial crew wheeling in their trolleys and begin to pick up the trash and paperwork that had been crumpled up and littered everywhere. The President couldn’t help but notice several Vehicons had huge clear recycling garbage bags specifically for papers, and they were filled up with his discharged financial reports.

Finally, he packed his briefcase and stood, walking slowly out of the auditorium.

His bodyguard, George, stood in the doorway, having a cigarette as usual, “Don’t worry, boss,” he told Shockwave, “you did baffo!”

“Thank you, George,” Shockwave sighed, feeling rather down, “at least you were listening.”

A lot of mechs were still milling around in the hallway; Shockwave looked around and saw Megatron with his Mother, talking to their fellow Gladiators; Soundwave was apparently in the Transporter.

“Excellent speech, Megatron,” Shockwave was polite as always, “would you like to come back to the Tower for an early dinner?”

“Nah,” Megatron shrugged, “first I gotta drive Ma home, and then get back to Starscream.”

“Oh yes,” Shockwave was concerned, “how is Starscream doing?”

“He’s fine,” Megatron rolled his optics, “just like he was fine when you asked me this morning, and he was fine when you asked me at the start of the meeting,” he chuckled now, “and he was fine when you texted me five minutes ago.”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” Shockwave didn’t realize he had asked so much, “it’s just that he’s carrying triplets,” but he wanted more time with Megatron, “could you call me tonight?”

But the Decepticon Leader’s CPU was elsewhere, chattering with Cy-Kill, “Yeah, sure.”

With nothing else to say, Shockwave knew it was time to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Megatron had not called or gotten back to Shockwave yet, and the purple Cannon-Former was beset by all his responsibilities, and the crushing cost of the memorial shrine.

The construction crew, a gestalt of orange Constructicons from Helix, were threatening to walk off the project. The foremech was a dimwitted Front-Loader named Steamhammer, and he was rumored to have broken a few legs with that fist of his that transformed into a mighty shovel.

Said foremech stood in front of Shockwave’s desk now, giving him an ultimatum, “If we don’t get our next payment of credits by next Thursday, we’re gonna walk off the project.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” Shockwave answered in a calm manner, “you will receive your payment on time, you have my word.”

“If we don’t get our credits next Thursday,” the Front-Loader flexed shovel arm, “you’re gonna know what real pain feels like.” He turned and walked out, “Cause that’s for work already done!”

 

Shockwave was very depressed; his report regarding the serious lack of credits he needed to finish the memorial shrine had fallen by the wayside in the wake of Megatron’s impassioned pleas for recognition for a retired Gladiator.

In the weeks that followed, Shockwave burrowed against Decepticon company credit cards—eight of them in total—to gather the credits he needed to pay the Constructicons. But now, he would have to pay off those credit cards at a high-interest rate, and he didn’t know where he would get the credits for next payment to the Constructicons, which was due in ninety days.

Another worry was that his bodyguard, George, was going on vacation to Greece for a month, leaving the President even more vulnerable.

Unable to recharge in his berth, Shockwave lay across the sofa now, looking for something on his television to distract him from his troubles. He needed credits; he didn’t have enough in the account for the next payment. He knew he needed to ask Megatron and Soundwave for a transfer of funds, but he hated the idea of asking. He didn’t want to face the fact that he couldn’t take care of his projects financially without burrowing or asking for help. It always killed him to ask for their help in any way.

Shockwave stared at the framed photo of himself with his long-deactivated best friend and mentor, Darkmount, who happened to be Megatron’s Sire, and signed heavily, “What am I going to do now, Darkmount? I can’t burden Megatron and Starscream now…”

The fact that Starscream was carrying triplets also prevented the President from wanting to beset Megatron with these worries; he had to think about how to carry Cybertron by himself.

He sat up, finished his Energon-tea, and began to work out a budget. He decided to utilize the resources that Cybertron already offered and raise funds that way. Thinking outside of the box, he came up with some tourism ideas.

 

“You gonna be alright alone, boss?” George asked as he carried his suitcases out.

“I’m thinking positively, George,” Shockwave’s nervousness gave him away though, “I’ve already signed a contract with the Emperor, and the Martians should be arriving shortly.”

Shockwave had contacted the Emperor of Mars and worked out a tourism deal: Martians were granted visas into Cybertron and offered package deals that included hotel, transportation, and meals, with Shockwave and the Emperor splitting the profits.

“And I’ve already sent the location photos to Paramount Pictures,” Shockwave added. He offered some of Cybertron’s historic locations to the Earth film studio at a drastically reduced rate, in order for some young filmmakers to be inspired to shoot on their planet and pay the location fee.

“I was never even worried about ya, boss,” George slapped the older mech on the back and was on his way.

 

Privately though, Shockwave was still wringing his good hand about having enough credits for the payment. The Earth dollars were a bit slow to come in, and the exchange rate for those Mars Cookies (the preferred Martian currency) was so high, it was barely profitable. Also, the checks from Bay Productions had been smaller than he had expected. Shockwave knew he needed to do something more drastic.

That night, Shockwave walked around his living room, Energon-tea cup in his hand; a huge stack of datapads and bills sprawled across his coffee table. That next payment to the Helixian Constructicons was looming large. The darkness of the night only added to his feeling of bleakness. He oh so did not want to ask Megatron for help; the President had never Bonded and had no sparklings and lived alone all his adult life. His Creators were long gone, and he had no siblings; no one to confide in. His only true companion was his hired bodyguard, George, and he was on vacation for a month.

Shockwave was feeling not only depressed and desperate; he was feeling so low and vulnerable. He sat on the sofa and held his helm with his gun hand, “I’ve never felt so horrible in my onlining,” he keened.

Trying to distract himself from his depression, he turned on the television. It was late, and nothing good was on, so he flipped through the channels further, into the terrestrial channels, the ones from Earth, which he usually never watched.

That’s when he first came across the Travel Channel.

There was a show hosted by a human, showing the audience an exotic location, where he sampled the food and interviewed a local chef. This show was followed by another, a similar show, only with a different host, again showcasing local culture. The next show featured another human, again, on location, giving a history tour, and interviewing a historian.

“This is so fascinating,” Shockwave was so enamored with the programs, that he began to hold a bit of hope for the future. What if one of these hosts would travel to Cybertron? The fees they would pay for their filming, not to mention the tourism their episode would attract could be the solution to all his financial problems.

There was a public service announcement, with a man and a woman looking straight at the camera, giving the website address and phone number to contact the network, “and we’ll help if we can.”

It was still daylight on Earth, so Shockwave immediately went for his phone, “Hello, Travel Channel?” he had a renewed sense of hope, “I’d like to speak to your casting department.”

 

Three days later, Shockwave paced around his office nervously; that human femme he spoke to at the Travel Channel had been very nice to him and more than willing to help him, but she was having trouble finding a host willing to travel to Cybertron. The celebrity chefs were reluctant to do intergalactic travel; another host expressed interest but was booked up for the next three years. On their most recent phone call, Shockwave had nearly broken down, telling her, “Oh please, ma’am, I’m desperate! I’m begging you to find someone to help me!”

He sat down at his kitchen table, putting his helm into his arms; his depression slowly returning.

Then in the nick of time, blessings reigned on him. By His grace, the phone rang.

Shockwave grabbed the phone, his vocals dripping with anticipation, “Yes?”

The casting lady said, “We’re hiring!”

That’s when Shockwave knew he was saved, “You are? Who is it?”

“Well, I called all the cuisine hosts, but like I told you, none of them could do it,” she explained, “however, I found a host that is thrilled to be able to film on Cybertron.”

“He’s willing to film his television program here?” Shockwave was so excited.

“He’s not only willing,” the casting director told him, “he’s crazy to go! He said he and his crew wouldn’t miss it!”

“Oh, this is wonderful news!” Shockwave couldn’t have been happier, “Which show is it?”

“Only our most highly rated show on the network,” she chipped.

“Oh!” Shockwave was excited; This solved so many problems, “What kind of show is it?”

The casting director told him, “Our paranormal adventures show!”


	3. Chapter 3

The four-man crew, all dressed in black, drove their jeep towards the Space Bridge, located in Scottsdale, Arizona.

The Lead Investigator, Zak, who also served as the host and executive producer of the show, rode in the front passenger seat. Dressed in two thermal base layers and 3-layer interchange coat over his snow pants, his spiky black hair and matching black eyeglasses, he approached this case with all the seriousness and gusto as he did with all his previous investigations. The Second Investigator, Aaron, sat directly behind him. He was bald and sported a dark goatee, looking older than his otherwise contemporary companions. He wore a black hoodie under his black hunting vest and black jeans. Next to him sat their Cinematographer, Jay, who was fairly new to the team, but still had his share of investigative prowess, his bushy brown hair in contrast to his trimmed beard of matching color, wore a simple black tee shirt and heavy outdoor jacket over ski pants. And lastly, their Audio Tech, Billy, was in the driver’s seat. Trimly bearded and a slightly receding hairline that was gelled in an upturned hairdo, he wore a hooded black leather jacket over winter sweatpants. And, most importantly, all four of them wore their crosses and had items of protection on their persons. With their jeep fully packed with their camera equipment, all four men were very enthusiastic about their latest assignment.

“So, where’s our next assignment?” the Cinematographer asked curiously.

“Yeah,” the Second Investigator commented, “when are you gonna tell us where we’re going?”

“I know you guys are excited,” the Lead Investigator began, “well, our next investigation will take place on…” he turned towards his friends and smiled, “Are you ready?”

They all gave their collective yeses.

“Gentlemen,” he told them, “we are the FIRST investigators to be granted access to Cybertron!”

“Whoa!” the Audio Tech shouted.

“Cybertron!” the Cinematographer yelled happily.

“Whoa-ho!” the Second Investigator clapped his hands and did a fist pump, “Transformers, here we come!”

They all cheered as they drove through the Space Bridge.

 

Shockwave had his staff cleaning his Tower like a mad mech. He had everything polished, cleaned, and new plants oh so decoratively arranged. He rented the Presidential Suite at the human hotel in downtown Iacon, the best room for human guests the planet had to offer.

Now, he gathered his Vehicon staff outside of his Tower for a meeting.

“Remember fellows,” he told them, “I expect each and every one of you to show these men the utmost courtesy and accommodation. They are extremely important guests, and you need to grant their every request.” He moved towards the driveway, then turned back, “In short, don’t blow this!”

Shockwave transformed into his Cannon/Vehicle Alt-Mode and drove off to Iacon Square, the Vehicons each transforming into their respective Cadillac Alt-Modes and followed him. The Presidential motorcade headed slowly down the highway.

At Iacon Square, members of the Trans-Galaxy media gathered with both still and video cameras; Cybertronians lining the streets and waving exuberantly.

Finally, the all-important Crew from the Travel Channel arrived, driving up and each exiting their jeep.

Jay, Zak, Aaron, and Billy walked in a line towards Shockwave with ceremonial purpose.

 

“Welcome to Cybertron, gentlemen,” the purple Cannon-Former extended his arms, “I am Shockwave, Caretaker President of our home planet,” he bowed silently.

The four men, in turn, returned the bow.

“This is my staff,” Shockwave presented the Vehicons, “Steve, Jason, Derek, Harrison, and my newest intern, Kevin.”

The Vehicons all saluted.

“Nice to meet you,” the Lead Investigator shook hands with Shockwave, “I’m Zak, this is Aaron, Jay, and Billy.”

They gave their collective hellos.

“You have a lovely planet here,” the Lead Investigator looked around, “well, should we get started?”

“Of course,” Shockwave nodded, “you have the key to the city-states, gentlemen, I grant you full access.”

 

As the Cinematographer and the Audio Tech rolled the cameras, the Lead Investigator began his speech, “Millions of years ago, the planet of Cybertron, home of the shape-shifting robots known as the Transformers, was engulfed in warfare.” He walked along Iacon Square, talking to the camera in a booming voice, “from a Quintesson-controlled factory town to the Destiny of the Primes, this planet has seen both peaceful eons, and endless civil wars, between the pacifist Autobots, and the power-hungry Decepticons.”

He stood by the Second Investigator now, with Shockwave looking on, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE ARE THE FIRST HUMANS TO BE GRANTED ACCESS TO FILMING ON CYBERTRON!!!”

The opening narration of Ghost Adventures:  
"There are things in this world that we will never fully understand. We want answers. We have worked years to build our credibility, our reputation. Working alongside the most renowned professionals in the field. Catching groundbreaking proof of the paranormal. This is our evidence, our Ghost Adventures."  
— Zak Bagans, Ghost Adventures current opening

File footage of the Great War rolled as the Lead Investigator gave his narration; his Decepticon-slanted information being provided by Shockwave: “Megatron, known as the Great Gladiator of Tarn, discovered that the Senate was forbidding access to certain parts of Cybertron, and was doing so to more and more areas. This Senate was controlled by a mech named Sentinel Prime, uncle of the current Autobot Leader, Optimus Prime,” footage of Optimus with the Earth’s President of the United States played over the narration, “Megatron and Soundwave founded a robot militia, known to us humans as the Decepticons, and drove their enemies out of power, killing Sentinel Prime and driving the remaining Autobots to flee to Earth.”

Their cameras continued to film as the foursome walked up the path to Shockwave’s Tower, as the Lead Investigator continued his narration, “But not before Sentinel Prime reigned for years, terrorizing Transformers with a brutal environment of oppression, torture, imprisoning thousands, and destroying many lives in the process.”

They filmed as Shockwave opened the Tower’s door and led them inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Shockwave sat in his living room, drinking some Energon-tea, while the four humans were provided with teacups of green tea and matcha tea, and sat on human-sized chairs, while their Cinematographer and Second Investigator continued to film.

The Lead Investigator began his interview with the Caretaker President, “Why don’t we start with you telling us your story.”

“Well,” Shockwave sat back and reminisced, “I’m originally from Tarn. My first job was as an apprentice asteroid minor; this was when I was a teenager.”

“When you were a teenager,” the Lead Investigator repeated back.

“That’s right, sir,” Shockwave nodded, “my supervisor was Darkmount, he was an Energon minor for many years before me. He was Megatron’s Sire.”

“Oh, he was Megatron’s Sire?” the Lead Investigator raised an eyebrow, “That’s interesting.”

“Yes, sir,” Shockwave continued, “that’s how I knew the family.”

“So, what happened next?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“Well,” Shockwave sat back a bit, feeling more comfortable in front of the cameras, “one day, now this was when Sentinel Prime was in power, there was a terrible accident in one of the mines.”

“What happened in one of the mines?” the Lead Investigator was genuinely curious.

“Darkmount and I were assigned to duty in the Praxis mine that day,” Shockwave explained, “but up in the Iacon mine, there was a dreadful cave-in, and eight miners were trapped, and buried underground.”

“Wow,” the Lead Investigator adjusted himself in the chair, “eight miners, that’s so sad.”

“It was,” Shockwave concurred, “and they were all from Tarn, like Darkmount and I were, and you must understand, Tarn is quite small, accounting for only around zero-point-four percent of Cybertron’s population.”

“That’s not a lot,” the Lead Investigator stated sadly.

“So, when you take that into account,” Shockwave explained, “when those eight miners perished, everyone in the town either knew one or more of them, or were related to one or more of them, or knew a relative of one or more of them. An uncle of mine knew two of them.”

“That’s really sad,” the Lead Investigator sighed, “do you know if they were killed instantly?”

“That’s the worst part,” Shockwave sat up and pointed at him, “they were THOUGHT to have died instantly, but there were persistent tapping sounds on the pipes, indicating that at least one of the miners, if not more, had survived the initial cave-in.”

The Lead Investigator was shocked.

“No way!” the Second Investigator shouted, “Dude!”

“But Sentinel Prime refused to rescue them,” Shockwave dropped his vocals a notch, “it was said that he didn’t believe the tapping was related to the miners. That it was water or some other excuse of his. Either way that tapping was said to have gone on for days.”

“WHAT?” the Lead Investigator shouted now, “Sentinel Prime didn’t even TRY to rescue them?”

“Not once,” Shockwave folded his hand, “he refused to spare the expense a rescue would cost. He didn’t value their lives at all.”

“Ah, man,” the Audio Tech sighed.

“I need some air,” the Lead Investigator stood, needing a minute outside.

 

After a half an hour or so, the Lead Investigator returned, and asked, “Shockwave, please continue.”

“If you think that story was bad, it gets a lot worse,” Shockwave continued, “Sentinel Prime was what you humans would call a racist; he hated Seekers.”

“What are Seekers?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“A Seeker is a type of Transformer onlined with flight capabilities,” Shockwave explained, “their most distinctive features are their rather large wings. They are actually the most dominant chassis-type of all Transformers. They are typically born in triplicate, so it’s safe to say that there are three Seekers for every land-based Transformer on Cybertron.”

“Okay,” the Lead Investigator nodded, “so why did this guy, this Sentinel Prime, what did he have against the Seekers?”

“Sentinel Prime was a Functionist,” Shockwave explained, “which is a belief system and social structure where a Transformer’s role in life was defined by their Alt-Mode. For instance, if one was onlined as a generic, but sturdily Truck Alt-Mode, such as Optimus Prime, one would have multiple potential uses and therefore open multiple doors in society for him.”

“Gotcha,” the Lead Investigator nodded.

“But Sentinel refused to see Seekers as having any potential use in society,” Shockwave continued, “he reportedly loathed them, and the fact that they were plentiful only made his hatred for them grow. They faced dreadful prejudice; they were kept out of Iacon, Helix, and even several establishments in Hydrax.”

“We had something similar on Earth,” the Lead Investigator pointed out, “this sounds a lot like the way they treated African-Americans before the Civil Rights Act.”

“It’s very similar,” Shockwave agreed, “with the exception of Optimus Prime, all the Primes were Functionists.”

“So, what did this guy, Sentinel Prime,” the Lead Investigator asked now, “what did he do to the Seekers?”

“Oh, it was awful,” Shockwave remembered bitterly, “he had the Elite Guards arrest them for the silliest things; then he was filling up an entire prison with Seekers, and when there was no more room, he had NEW prisons erected, there were four prisons in total.”

The Lead Investigator shook his head.

“Damn, Bro,” the Second Investigator was disgusted by this.

“And when he built the last prison,” Shockwave gave a dramatic pause, “that was the Iacon Correctional Center, he seized the land in Iacon from the mine owners, claiming eminent domain, and when Darkmount and I showed up for work one day…it was February, if I’m not mistaken, the mines were completely shut down and we were all terminated.”

“Whaaaat?” the Lead Investigator couldn’t believe this, “So everybody lost their jobs too?”

“Precisely,” Shockwave nodded, “it was devasting to the miners; many of whom had worked in those mines for a Milena. Darkmount was devastated; he passed away only two years later, still in middle age.”

“And that was Megatron’s father,” the Lead Investigator noted.

“That’s correct,” Soundwave nodded.

“That’s so sad,” the Lead Investigator took off his glasses and wiped a tear away.

“It was very sudden,” Shockwave refused to show any emotion in front of the cameras, so he changed the subject, “as for the rest of us, the ones that were young enough at the time, myself included, we needed to find gainful employment. After that, I took an entry-level position in the field of forensic science and worked for the medical examiner’s office in Iacon.”

“The medical examiner’s office in Iacon,” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “the coroner’s office.”

“Correct,” Shockwave nodded, “I stayed in touch with Megatron and his Mother; this was when he was known as the Great Gladiator of Tarn in the Arena, and I told him about what I was seeing there.”

“And what were you seeing there?” the Lead Investigator asked curiously.

“A vast number of dead prisoners,” Shockwave lowered his vocals for dramatic effect, “Seekers, grounders, you name it. And many of the deactivated were brought to us with obvious signs of torture on their chassises. I was the one that alerted Megatron about this.”

“Oh my God,” the Audio Tech whispered.

“So, they were torturing the prisoners,” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “that’s awful.”

“It gets worse,” Shockwave continued, “many of these prisoners were held in custody without ever being charged with a crime,” he leaned in again for dramatic effect, “and the true horrors of their captivity wasn’t known to the public until well after the war.”

“After the war,” again, the Lead Investigator repeated statements back, “what were the true horrors of their captivity?”

The Audio Tech leaned in now as well.

“Violence,” Shockwave told them, “guards killed Seekers for sport; wings were ripped completely from their frames in some cases. These Seekers were abused, violated, tortured, and Sentinel Prime was still sending more and more of them to the prisons. There was overcrowding; in some cases, there were eight Seekers in one cell, but that was better than the solitary, or so they told me.”

“And what was the solitary?” the Lead Investigator was almost afraid to ask.

“You remember the Iacon Correctional Center?” Shockwave pointed out, “The one that was built over the old mines? At the time, we all thought Sentinel Prime wanted the land OVER the mines for the prison. But what we didn’t know until much later, was that they constructed the lower floors to the prison USING the mines.”

“Shut up!” the Lead Investigator couldn’t contain his appall, “The cells were IN the mines?”

“No way!” the Second Investigator stood and almost dropped his camera, “No way, Bro!”

“They constructed four floors of cells,” Shockwave continued, “and the lowest was hundreds of feet below ground. Seekers that were housed down there were said to be kept in their cells for up to twenty-three hours a day.”

“Oh my God!” the Lead Investigator shouted now, “Are you serious?”

“What I’ve told you is the truth,” Shockwave concluded, “these are things we can confirm. But for every atrocity I’ve relayed to you today, there are hundreds of rumors and legends.”

“Well, Mr. President,” the Lead Investigator smiled despite the heaviness of the topic, “we just love finding evidence on old legends.”

“I’ll give you one,” Shockwave leaned in, “when we finally shut down the four prisons, we found evidence of cosmic rust residue.”

“Cosmic rust,” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “what’s cosmic rust?”

“It’s deadly to Transformers,” Shockwave told them, “imagine human skin being sprayed with acid.”

All four men gasped.

“We believe,” Shockwave continued, “that the guards were dousing prisoners with cosmic rust. It’s an excruciating way to die.”

“OH MY GOD!” the Lead Investigator turned and looked at his crew, “DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

“That’s messed up,” the Second Investigator rubbed his bald head and sighed, “I can’t, Bro.”

The Audio Tech shred a few tears.

The Cinematographer was stone-faced, in shock.

“I’ll give you the files I have,” Shockwave stood now, “you’ll need them for your investigation. Are you ready?”

“We are ready, Sir,” the Lead Investigator grinned broadly, “we are absolutely ready.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Many tell of Sentinel Prime’s cruelty,” the Lead Investigator narrated, “stories of miners left to die; their desperate tapping on the pipes heard for days.”

The four men poured over Shockwave’s files; many of which had severe mold on them. Because of his allergies and asthma, the Lead Investigator wore his respirator.

“So many incidents of violence,” the Lead Investigator noted, “the Elite Guards took pleasure in torturing the Seekers.”

Shockwave tasked his intern, the Vehicon named Kevin, to be their guide during location filming. So later that day, Kevin transformed into his Cadillac Alt-Mode and drove the Crew to the former site of the Department of Detention of Suspected Criminals in lower Iacon, where Starscream had been held for a time.

“We’re in Iacon on Cybertron,” the Lead Investigator walked outside the massive stone walls, speaking loudly as he looked into the camera as the Cinematographer filmed him, “a lot of the locations that we investigate, it’s almost as if the spirits at these locations call us, through…signs, or clues, or synchronicities, and the location that we’re here to investigate,” he waved his hand at the prison, “that is exactly what happened this time.”

They took photos and videos around the grounds, then Kevin drove them to the second and third prisons, where they also did more filming, but the Lead Investigator wasn’t feeling any connection to these three buildings.

“Hey, Zak,” the Second Investigator asked, laughing with excitement, “where do you wanna do our lockdown?”

“Well,” the Lead Investigator grinned widely, looking at his three friends, “what do you think, gentlemen?”

They all smiled and said in unison, “THE IACON CORRECTIONAL CENTER!”

 

But first, there was the State Dinner in their honor.

“Kinda nice,” the Audio Tech commented, “not having to do the driving.”

Back inside their Cadillac host, the four-man Crew rode back to Shockwave’s Tower.

“Okay, so tonight,” the Lead Investigator told the group, “we always do this before a lockdown. We always do a bonding ritual to solidify our friendships and strength against these dark elements we go up against at these locations.”

“Oh, you’ll enjoy the State Dinner then,” Kevin told them, his dashboard flashing green lights every time he spoke, “Shockwave’s invited tons of us Vehicons, and even the Targetmasters are coming.”

“Targetmasters, huh?” the Lead Investigator pretended to understand who they were, “sounds wonderful.”

“There’s one thing you need to know,” Kevin told them, “and that’s the Universal Greeting.”

“The Universal Greeting,” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “and what is the Universal Greeting?”

“Listen carefully,” Kevin’s dashboard flashed, “and you’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

The men all leaned in closer.

“The Universal greeting is,” Kevin made his vocals proud, “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

The Lead Investigator: “Bah…What?”

Kevin: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

The Second Investigator: “Bah-weep?”

Kevin: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

The Cinematographer: Bah-weep-…”

Kevin: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

The Audio Tech: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

Kevin: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

All four men: “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

“You got it,” Kevin was relieved, “phew.”

 

That night, at the State Dinner in their honor, the men ate from the buffet.

“Dude,” the Second Investigator commented, “at least they got some good food here.”

There was a scale model of the proposed historic memorial shrine in Iacon Square, encased in glass, for the many humans and Transformers to look at; and beside it was a donation box.

“Oh,” the Audio Tech spotted the scale model, “so that’s the thing his building?”

“So that’s the shine,” the Cinematographer commented, “nice.”

“Yeah,” the Lead Investigator nodded, “that’s the thing he’s building.”

“Cool,” the Second Investigator agreed between bites of food.

“So, you guys wanna know some gossip?” Kevin approached now, Energon cube in hand, “It’s about Thundercracker.”

“Who’s Thunder-whatis?” the Audio Tech asked, “Thundercracker?”

“We love gossip,” the Lead Investigator grinned broadly, “what do you know, Kevin?”

“Thundercracker’s one of the Lieutenants,” Kevin dropped his vocals a few notches, “his Sire deactivated in that prison you’re investigating.”

“Whaaat?” the Lead Investigator was intrigued, “His father died in the Iacon Correctional Center?”

“Uh-huh,” Kevin nodded, “you see, when he was a toddler, his Creators split up; she was pregnant and divorced him to marry the sparkling’s Father.”

“Dude!” the Second Investigator laughed and elbowed the Cinematographer, “This Cybertron’s like, a robot soap opera!”

“So, Thundercracker’s Father,” Kevin continued, “who, by the way, was a drunk, ends up kidnapping Thundercracker and taking him to some cabin, motel or whatever, in the woods.”

“Wow,” the Lead Investigator’s eyes lit up, loving this, “he kidnapped his own son.”

“So, the cops come to the motel,” Kevin loved holding court, “and the guy shoots and kills two of the cops!”

“WHOA!” the Lead Investigator was shocked.

“That’s so sad,” the Audio Tech felt sorry, “was the little one there?”

“Yeah, he was,” Kevin nodded, “and that’s when they locked this guy up for murder and kidnapping and stuff. But that’s not all.”

“That’s not all?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“No,” Kevin looked around to make sure no one was listening, “one of those cops he killed? Well, his Bondmate paid one of the guards to let him in and kill this guy!”

“WHAAAAT?!” the Lead Investigator was stunned.

“Dude!” the Second Investigator bent over and back up again, “No way!”

“It’s the truth,” Kevin told him, “he beat this guy to death right there in the jail cell, and he deactivated there.”

“Well,” the Lead Investigator looked at his friends, “this is definitely something we will be investigating.”

They all stopped talking when they heard Shockwave at the microphone.

“May I have everyone’s attention,” the purple Cannon-Former began, “I want to thank all of you for coming this evening, and would you please join me in welcoming our guests of honor.”

Everyone applauded; some Vehicons even standing up and clapping.

The men nodded, waved, and saluted.

The Decepticon Targetmasters—Nightstick, Aimless, Fracas, Caliburst, and Blowpipe—approached the men now. They were all human-size.

The Audio Tech wasn’t sure what to do; he turned to the Lead Investigator.

“What was that Universal Greeting again?” the Lead Investigator whispered to the Second Investigator before putting a hand up, “Never mind, I remember.” He approached the Targetmasers and proclaimed, “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong.”

“Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong?” Nightstick asked happily.

“Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong,” the Lead Investigator repeated, this time bowing.

The other three men in the Crew followed his lead and bowed as well.

Nightstick turned to the crowd and announced, “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong!”

Then everyone in the cheered and sang in unison, “Bah-weep-Graaaaaghah wheep ni ni bong!”

“Told you,” Kevin nodded to the Cinematographer, “works every time!”

The live band that Shockwave had hired for the event began to play a traditional Tarnian folk song, known as the ‘Butcher’s dance.’

The Targetmasters then showed how the traditional dance, known as the ‘Hassapikos,’ began, with participants each putting a hand on the next one’s shoulder, before dancing in a circle to the kick-heavy routine, unlinking, turning around, and linking up again. Fracas took the Lead Investigator by the hand, and all four men joined in, dancing with the Targetmasters to the joy of the crowd.

Even Shockwave enjoyed a rare moment of levity.

“Hey Zak,” the Second Investigator laughed as they all danced, “I think that the Universal Greeting means, ‘Care to Dance?’”

“I’ll go with that!” the Lead Investigator laughed back.

And everyone danced the night away!


	6. Chapter 6

On the second day of their stay on Cybertron, the four-man Crew was picked up by Kevin at their hotel suite and driven to the former site of the Iacon Correctional Center.

It was early in the morning, and they needed to see the prison in the daylight hours before their planned lockdown, in order to see where and what they would be investigating.

“It’s day two of our investigation here on Cybertron, gentlemen,” the Lead Investigator narrated as the Cinematographer filmed their drive, “we are on our way to visit one of the deadliest prisons in the galaxy, site of some of the most gruesome deaths this planet has ever witnessed.”

Kevin, in his Cadillac Alt-Mode, drove them carefully, as the men looked out of his tinted windows. The prison was located on the very edge of the Iacon city limits; metal trees of all different colors lined the two-lane road. As they got closer, they saw the Black Sea, which was miles and miles long; the Cinematographer filmed footage of it.

“Will you look at that,” the Audio Tech commented, “it’s like, looking at a lake made of ink.”

“It’s absolutely amazing,” the Lead Investigator concurred.

And at the edge of the Black Sea, was the forest and the dirt grounds then encircled all around the prison. At the end of the sea, there is no road.

“You guys will have to get out and walk,” Kevin instructed as he opened all four of his doors, “I can’t drive through this.”

The men all obliged and got out; the Cinematographer putting on the shoulder mounts for his camera.

Kevin transformed into his Robot Mode, “It’s this way!” 

The men followed their Vehicon guide.

The dirt and stony path were lined with erotic weeds, flora, and fauna not seen anywhere else on Cybertron.

 

“It’s so weird,” the Lead Investigator narrated to the camera and his Crew, “there’s no people, or Transformers around here, just this…creepy forest, and you just feel like you’re being watched.”

“It’s almost like,” the Second Investigator walked backward as he looked around, “an organic planet, but it’s not.”

The wild animals of Cybertron watched the men walking; almost as if they were afraid for them.

Suddenly, they heard rustling in the tall grass.

“What’s that?!” the Audio Tech stopped, “Nobody move!”

Everyone, including Kevin, froze cold.

“What is it?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“Something’s coming…” the Audio Tech whispered.

A petrorabbit, which was a mechanical rabbit, emerged from the grass. To the Transformers, they were quite small; to the humans, they were the size of a large dog; a friendly one.

“It’s a wild petrorabbit,” Kevin explained, “you’ll see a lot of those around here.”

“Aww,” the Audio Tech bent down and petted the animal, which in turn sniffed the human and licked his hand.

“It’s like a big bunny rabbit,” the Second Investigator laughed, “only it’s all metal and stuff.”

The Lead Investigator petted the friendly creature as well, “At least I wouldn’t be allergic to him.”

“Petrorabbits are said to be the guardians,” Kevin explained, “they are said to guard this path to keep troublemakers out…” he looked around nervously, “or in, sometimes.”

“Well, he sure is friendly,” the Second Investigator petted the petrorabbit again, “I think he likes us.”

The petrorabbit looked at each of the men as if to warn them to be careful, and then hopped back into the fauna.

“Bye, little fella,” the Audio Tech called out.

“Sayonara dude,” the Second Investigator waved.

The Cinematographer stayed silent, fearing the creature a bit as he filmed the exchange.

“Don’t worry,” Kevin told them, “he was only checking if you were of pure intentions.”

“Looks like we passed the test,” the Lead Investigator grinned, “what did you say about the bunnies being guardians?”

“Guardians of the path,” Kevin explained as he walked forward, “you see, no one ever comes here, and this is a place of rest for many sparks, like a cemetery; if the petrorabbits felt you were unfriendly, they would have attacked you with their sharp teeth.”

“Dude,” the Second Investigator laughed, “hope he tells his friends about us.”

 

They walked for a while, and then they could see the end of the forest, where there were no more trees.

“We’re almost there,” Kevin told them, “and there’s a path.”

There was a driveway now, made from gravel and stones. There were wind chimes, going ‘ting, ting, ting,’ and stone statues of several long-deactivated Primes of the past, and finally, the prison.

A 20-foot chain-link fence encircled the old prison in an attempt to keep trespassers out.

“Oh my God,” the Lead Investigator looked around and walked in a circle, “will you guys look at this place?”

The men were all collectively impressed, but at the same time, intimidated by the setting. The chimes kept going, ‘ting, ting, ting,’ and there was a feeling of peace, like a Zen garden.

But the Cinematographer kept looking at those stone statues, “I feel like they’re looking at us.”

“It was Sentinel Prime’s ego,” Kevin explained, “he wanted to remind all the Seekers in the prison that the Primes were the rulers of the planet.”

They all approached the Iacon Correctional Center itself now: The prison was an entire city block long; had torrands at each of the four corners; the walls were forty-feet high, with barbed, razor wire lining the top. The stone walls were crumbling; shredding more and more every day. There was ivy climbing up the limestone walls as if the jungle was reclaiming the land. The four guard towers, with the windows all the way around, and there were stands that the guards held their rifles on. On the western side of the structure was the only entrance.

“Whoa,” the Second Investigator walked around, “this is massive.”

They began filming; the Lead Investigator narrated for the camera as they walked around the grounds, “OVER SEVENTEEN THOUSAND PRISONERS, MANY OF THEM SEEKERS, WERE SAID TO BE HOUSED AT THE IACON CORRECTIONAL CENTER. FOR YEARS, THESE MECHS WERE TORTURED. TORTURED BY GUARDS FOR SPORT; TORTURED BY THE SOLITUDE, AND BEING HOUSED IN THIS FORTRESS OF STONE, DEPRIVED OF THEIR NATURAL HABITAT ABOVE.”

Kevin lead them to the gate.

“You got the keys?” the Second Investigator asked.

“I have the keys,” Kevin nodded. The Cinematographer took a close-up shot of the Vehicon opening the lock.

The entrance was in the main building. The Crew walked up to the cement steps and onto the porch; it resembled an Earth courthouse. The doorway was a dark green color, with the paint chipping away.

Kevin opened the front doors.

“Here we go, gentlemen,” the Lead Investigator told his Crew as they followed Kevin inside.


	7. Chapter 7

“Here’s the map,” Kevin pulled the paper from his subspace and showed it to the Crew.

The hallway entrance was massive, resembling a police station; this was known as the Entrance Hall. To the left was known as the Main Hall, with an elevator and a stairwell to the Guards’ Towers and second-floor catwalks.

Directly ahead of the front doors was the Offices, including the Storage Vault, with prisoners’ confiscated property; and on the second floor, was the Warden’s Office, as well as the high-ranking Elite Guards’ Offices.

To its left, were the detention rooms and holding areas; and next to those, were the Visiting Areas, beyond that was the Pantry, walk a bit further, and there was the massive Dining Room, and it's left, the enormous Kitchen, where the meals were prepared.

And to the right, beyond the Dining Room, was the main prison. Two floors, with hundreds of jail cells, Cell Block A, B, C, and D. D was for the worst of the worst. On the second floor, was the catwalks, where the guards would walk. And to the east, was the showers; massive, gymnasium-sized rooms and tall ceilings, with spouts on the ceilings, where the ice-cold waters would clean the prisoners. Also known as the Gas Chamber.

“We are definitely going to have to split up,” the Lead Investigator took the map, “we’ll be in teams of two during our lockdown; that way, we can cover more ground.”

And so, the Lead Investigator and the Cinematographer walked with Kevin, through the building and offices, while the Second Investigator and the Audio Tech began to walk up to the second floor and the catwalks.

The Cinematographer filmed the interview between themselves and their Vehicon guide.

“Kevin,” the Lead Investigator looked around the Main Hall, folding his arms, trying to take it all in, “do you believe that this place is haunted?”

“I do,” Kevin nodded, “when I was a youngling, my friends and I broke in here.”

“Your friends and you broke in here, Kevin?” the Lead Investigator repeated back.

“Uh-huh,” Kevin continued, “We only got as far as the first floor in Cell Block A, and we heard vocals.”

“Vocals,” the Lead Investigator scratched his chin, “that’s Transformers’ voices, right?”

“Yeah,” Kevin confirmed, “there were vocals like there were prisoners still here, but the Decepticons had freed all the remaining prisoners years ago.”

“Could it have been living Transformers?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“No,” Kevin shook his helm, “the cells were empty.”

“Okay,” the Lead Investigator concluded, taking this all in.

“But I will tell you,” Kevin looked around as he continued, “one of my friends, a femme, she said that she felt someone had reached out from one of the cells and stroked the back of her neck cables.”

“Whoa,” the Lead Investigator thought about this, “well, when you have inmates locked up here, and they haven’t seen women for years and years and years, so maybe that’s why it was friendly.”

 

Meanwhile, the Second Investigator and Audio Tech had reached the second-floor office, “WHOA!” the Second Investigator jumped back suddenly before he realized what he was seeing was a taxidermized moosebot helm on the wall.

The Audio Tech turned on his flashlight and saw a large looming portrait of Sentinel Prime on the wall behind the Warden’s desk, “This must be that Sentinel guy that build this place.”

“Dude,” the Second Investigator shivered, “think I prefer that moose thing!”

The men looked at the desk and found ancient, pre-datapad parchment papers, the Audio Tech grabbed his walkie-talkie, “Zak, we’ve found the inmates’ records.”

“We’re coming up,” the Lead Investigator replied, now wearing his protective breathing mask and turning towards the camera, “let’s roll.”

 

The four men now read from the prisons’ logbooks, “Murderers and convicted convicts,” the Lead Investigator noted as he looked through a book of inmate deaths; he saw a rather unusual explanation by many of the names – de-winged.

“Many of these Seekers,” the Lead Investigator spoke to the camera, were murdered when their wings were ripped from their bodies. Dissected, like frogs by high school kids.”

“Ew,” the Audio Tech shivered a bit.

“Cosmic Rust,” the Second Investigator read aloud before his eyes bugged out and he pointed a finger, “Dude! That’s the thing Shockwave was telling us about when they were killing the Seekers!”

“YOU’RE RIGHT!” the Lead Investigator shouted beneath his mask, “they were spraying ‘em in the showers!” He turned to Kevin, “Can we see the showers?”

“Sure,” Kevin nodded, before moving around the desks, “I’ll show you where they are.”

The Vehicon led the four men along the catwalk, with the Cinematographer continuing to film their journey.

“It smells like chili in here,” the Second Investigator noted.

“It smells like chili?!” the Lead Investigator shouted back, “It smells like death in here; what’s wrong with you?”

The Second Investigator just shrugged.

The prison was massive; the cells were dirty, and decrypted; many had plaster peeling from the walls and ceilings; the bars ready to disintegrate from rust. One had animal droppings from the nearby wildlife that had broken in.

But unbeknownst to all, there were optics of the deactivated looking back at them curiously.

“This is Cell Block B,” Kevin explained, “they were said to house up to eight Seekers at a time in each cell.”

“Whoa,” the Second Investigator couldn’t believe it.

“That’s…so tight,” the Lead Investigator noted, “where would the wings go?”

“They didn’t have wings anymore,” Kevin told them.

This made the Audio Tech sad; he hated the thought of anything living being tortured.

The catwalk itself was rather old and rusted, dotted with holes and cracks.

“Many of the inmates constructed the prison itself,” Kevin told them as they walked, “you’ll see that the rivets aren’t lined properly.”

“Really?” the Lead Investigator asked, “So that must have been an arduous task.”

“Well,” Kevin sighed, “when they said hard labor, they meant it.”

They approached the wall at the other end of the catwalk.

“And if you look through there,” Kevin told them, “you can see the Gas Chamber.”

“Wow,” the Lead Investigator hurried over, as did the other three men, with the Cinematographer sticking his camera through one of the larger cracks.

The Gas Chamber was a huge two-floor warehouse with shower spouts every few feet.

“There was a lot of violence in there,” Kevin noted, “a lotta guys hung themselves…”

“They hung themselves in there?” the Lead Investigator repeated back.

“They hung themselves,” Kevin confirmed, “there were attacks; the prisoners attacked each other.”

“The lingering energy of violent deaths,” the Lead Investigator narrated, “still lingers long after the screams have been silenced.”

While the Crew and the Vehicon were all looking through the creaks, several disembodied sparks hovered nearby.

“What was that?” the Lead Investigator turned around sharply, “Did you guys hear that?”

The Cinematographer turned his camera around.

No one saw anything.

“Whoa, this is creepy, just…” the Second Investigator shook his head, “it’s just creepy.”

“Oh man,” the Audio Tech looked around, “we’re not even on lockdown yet, and things are happening.”

“Kevin,” the Lead Investigator told him, “show us the solitary.”


	8. Chapter 8

Now, the Vehicon led them down the steel staircase on the other side of the catwalk, back down to the first floor. From there, they went to the adjacent building, where Cell Blocks C and D where, and showed them a steel door.

“This is where the prison ends, and the old mines begin,” Kevin told them as he opened the door. It took the Vehicon some effort, but he was strong and was able to pull the door backward enough for the men to enter.

“Can you prop that open?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Kevin looked around and found a nearby cinderblock and propped the door open, “just make sure you close this door when you leave tomorrow morning. Just, you know, in case.”

“Just in case,” the Lead Investigator nodded, “yeah, I get it.”

Just in case anything could get out.

They walked down the cement stairwell as the Lead Investigator narrated, “BUT IT WAS BENEATH THE PRISON THAT WAS THE MOST HORRIFIC.” The Cinematographer recorded as they stepped carefully down the dirty, crumbling steps, as the Lead Investigator continued, “THE OLD ENERGON MINES, WITH ALL THE DIRT-FILLED TUNNELS, AND CATACOMBS, WERE THIS PRISON’S DARKEST SECRETS.”

For Transformers, it was a flight of stairs down; for the humans, it was the equivalent of three flights down.

Kevin and each of the men turned on their flashlights now; there were tunnels going in all directions, cobwebs covering entire passageways, and old, wooden boards barely holding up the buildings above them.

“This way,” Kevin led them down the path to the right, which led under the prison. As they walked along, the dirty walls that went on for seeming miles now had several steel doors close together, and there was one at the end of the tunnel.

“Dude,” the Second Investigator looked around, “this could cave in any minute…”

“They made cells down here,” Kevin told the men, “here, I’ll open one,” he opened a door in the middle of the row of doors and showed the men the cement interior. The Cinematographer pointing his camera inside.

“SOLITARY CONFINEMENT WAS A FORM OF PUNISHMENT FOR THE VIOLENT AND UNCOOPERATIVE,” the Lead Investigator narrated, “THESE CELLS WERE BURREN BECAUSE THE INMATES COULD MAKE WEAPONS OUT OF ANYTHING.”

The Audio Tech and the Second Investigator stepped inside and shown their flashlights around. The Lead Investigator chose to stay outside because of his asthma.

“I don’t know if you guys can feel this like I can,” Kevin had to crouch down, “but this area is really tight for us Transformers. We have to walk single file.”

“Bro,” the Second Investigator told his friend, “there’s no windows in here. Not even on the door.”

“NO LIGHTS, FOR TWENTY-THREE HOURS A DAY,” the Lead Investigator narrated, “THIS WAS KNOWN AS SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.”

“And those other tunnels,” Kevin pointed in the other direction, “those are the old mines, so if a prisoner escaped, he could get lost in these tunnels for weeks, with no way out except the one that led back to the stairwell, and even that exit would’ve led them right into Cell Block D. But even that would’ve been better than being lost down here.”

“Well, we’re here to look for the eight miners,” the Lead Investigator explained, “the ones that Shockwave told us about.”

“Try the one to the left,” Kevin pointed in that direction, suddenly becoming uncomfortable after hours of comradery, “we should go…”

But the Lead Investigator immediately picked up on the Vehicon’s sudden discomfort, “You alright, Kevin?”

“S-Sure,” Kevin nodded, “j-just…I won’t go down there again,” he pointed to the end of the tunnel, in the opposite direction of the supposed tunnel the eight miners were lost in, where there were other solitary cells.

So, of course, the Lead Investigator began to walk that way, “Aaron, let’s have a look.”

While the Cinematographer stayed with Kevin, the Lead Investigator, Second Investigator, and the Audio Tech crept down the tunnel. At the end, far apart from the others, was a lone cell.

“WHAT IS IT ABOUT THIS CELL, KEVIN?” the Lead Investigator called back, “WHAT MAKES THIS CELL DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHERS?”

“Well,” Kevin hesitated, but finally admitted, “remember when I told you I came here with my friends? Well, I looked into that cell, and I saw a dark figure.”

“You saw a dark figure?” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “What kind of dark figure?”

“Like a Transformer,” Kevin would not budge from where he stood, “only…only the optics weren’t lit.”

“The optics weren’t lit,” the Lead Investigator considered this, “like, black eyes.”

“That’s creepy, dude,” the Second Investigator backed up as well, ready to get out of the tunnel, “we shouldn’t be down here, man.”

The Audio Tech gulped, realizing they could be in danger.

The Cinematographer looked at Kevin for help.

But the Lead Investigator had already made up his mind; when they returned for the lockdown, they would be investigating that cell.

“We must head back,” Kevin told them, “we don’t want to get lost down here.”

“Of course,” the Lead Investigator nodded, before whispering to the Second Investigator, “we’ll be back.”

Kevin led the men out now, back up the stairwell, “Do you need to see anything else?”

“The guards’ office,” the Lead Investigator told him, “we didn’t see the weapons’ room.”

“No problem,” Kevin told them, “anything, to get out of the mines.”

After a long, arduous walk, they were back on the second floor, in the offices of the Elite Guards.

Once there, the men checked out the shooting gallery, and Kevin relaxed a bit, laughing at their antics, especially the Second Investigator’s apparent eagerness to get his hands on a gun.

“Dude,” the Second Investigator laughed, “an alien gun! Watch out, E.T.!”

“I’ll see your E.T.,” the Lead Investigator laughed, “and raise you the Alien Queen!” he picked up another of the Guards’ guns.

There was an audible moan heard coming from Cell Block B.

“What was that?” the Lead Investigator asked.

They all stopped and listened but heard no more.

“Hey guys,” the Audio Tech reminded them, “we’d better get our gear.”

“Yeah,” the Second Investigator agreed, “we’re not even on lockdown yet, and they can’t wait to talk to us!”

“Lead the way, Kevin,” the Lead Investigator told their guide.

The four men and the Vehicon all left the prison now and walked back through the forest before Kevin was finally able to transform back into his Cadillac Alt-Mode and drive them back to their hotel. They would be returning later that evening for the lockdown.


	9. Chapter 9:

It was seven o’clock on that same day that the four-man Crew returned to the site of the Iacon Correctional Center. Again, they rode in Kevin, who was in his Cadillac Alt-Mode, but this time, they brought along all their gear: Two motion-picture cameras, four hand-held, rapid-fire cameras, EVP detectors, EMF readers, thermal imaging devices, and a spirit box, which they hoped would translate the Vosian Seekers’ native language to English. Needless to say, they were riding heavy.

The forest surrounding the prison was much more ominous in the dark, with cyber-owls hooting as the night enveloped the home planet of the Transformers.

As they again made their way through the forest on the dirt road, the petrorabbits, who had earlier welcomed them, now feared for the humans’ safety.

But since they had visited earlier, they were now confident in where they were going, and walked much faster and with more purpose.

“Alright, Kevin,” the Lead Investigator instructed, “You lock us inside these walls, and don’t let us out until tomorrow morning, especially Aaron.”

The Second Investigator just laughed.

“You got it, guys,” Kevin let all four men inside, cameras, equipment, and all, and locked the front door; the Cinematographer recording the Vehicon’s worried faceplates for their show.

With the Second Investigator and the Cinematographer both rolling their cameras, the Lead Investigator began his narration, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE ARE ON LOCKDOWN! INVESTIGATING THE IACON CORRECTIONAL CENTER!” They panned their cameras over the massive structure, as he continued, “AND NOW, WE WILL BE ON THIS LOCKDOWN ALL NIGHT, HERE IN THIS BUILDING, WHERE HUNDREDS OF SEEKERS LOST THEIR LIVES!”

They made their way back up to the Warden’s office on the second floor, where the Lead Investigator retrieved the book of inmates’ deaths.

The spirits of the lost Seekers felt the presence of the living men, and many cowered in fear in their cells.

The Second Investigator and the Cinematographer began rolling their cameras again, and the Audio Tech then began setting up the X-cameras, making sure they had multiple angles to catch any light anomalies or apparitions.

“Alright guys,” the Lead Investigator instructed his Crew, “first, we’re going to try to make contact with the dead Seekers, specifically the one that Kevin told us about that kidnapped his son and killed those two police officers,” he had not forgotten the story of Thundercracker’s Father.

The Audio Tech handed out the gear as the Lead Investigator continued, whispering, “And we’re not only going to search for the ghosts of the prisoners, we’re gonna find out whatever that dark figure in the mines was that Kevin saw.”

“You got it,” the Second Investigator nodded.

“Here we go,” the Audio Tech concurred.

“Let’s do this,” the Cinematographer agreed.

“Nobody lives here,” the Lead Investigator pointed out, “So we’re not worried about going in there and picking a fight with it, and ticking it off, and leaving.”

The poor tortured sparks of the prisoners were even more fearful now, knowing the group’s true intentions.

“INMATES OF THE IACON CORRECTIONAL CENTER,” the Lead Investigator, holding the book of inmates’ deaths open, addressed the deactivated prisoners, “BAH-WEEP-GRAAAAAGHAH WHEEP NI NI BONG! WE ARE HUMANS! WE COME FROM THE TRAVEL CHANNEL ON EARTH, AND WE ARE HERE TO TALK TO YOU, AND TO TELL YOUR STORY!”

The men listened in silence.

By now, it was eight-thirty at night, and it was pitch-black throughout the prison, “Dude, this place is huge,” the Second Investigator swore his flashlight over the cells, “this is gonna take us all night.”

“Let’s split up,” the Lead Investigator told his Crew, “because of the size of this place, we’re not using a nerve center. Instead, we’re gonna split up and walk around,” they each held their cameras and listening devices, with the Lead Investigator putting on his respirator for protection against the unearthly elements of the decaying building.

“IS ANYBODY HERE?” the Second Investigator took Cell Block A, on the first floor, “We mean you no harm, we just wanna talk to you and let you tell your story,” he held a thermal imaging camera, looking for clues.

The Cinematographer walked with the Second Investigator, filming as he held his walkie-talkie.

“IF YOU CAN HEAR ME,” the Second Investigator called out, “MAKE A NOISE!”

They waited, and then the Cinematographer played back their tape recorder, “I’m innocent,” Hotlink keened in a whisper.

“WHOA!” the Second Investigator’s jaw dropped open, “He said, ‘I’m innocent!’”

They played the tape back again, “I’m innocent,” Hotlink keened in a whisper.

They played the tape back a third time, “I’m innocent,” Hotlink keened in a whisper.

“Dude,” the Second Investigator told his friend, “this has to be one of the Seekers that died here,” he asked another question, “WHAT WERE YOU ACCUSED OF?”

There was no response. Hotlink did not know what he was accused of.

The Cinematographer played back the tape, but they heard nothing.

So, the Second Investigator asked a different question, “WHO PUT YOU IN THIS PRISON?”

The Cinematographer again played back the tape, and this time, Hotlink responded, “Sentinel.”

The Second Investigator gasped, “Oh my God, did you hear that?”

They played the tape back again, “Sentinel.”

The played the tape back a third time, “Sentinel.”

“SENTINEL!” both men said together; “He’s saying that it was that guy, Sentinel Prime, that put him in prison,” the Second Investigator noted before telling the ghost, “THANK YOU! THANK YOU FOR TELLING US WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!”

The two men shook hands, knowing they had received intelligent answers to their questions.

 

At the same time, the Audio Tech was in Cell Block C, narrating into his tape recorder, “Many innocent souls were lost here, and many Seekers were destroyed without a trial,” he walked into a cell, “whoever is here, you don’t have to stay here, you’re not in prison anymore.”

Nacelle had been picked up by the Elite Guards for flying in a restricted area. It was an accident; he wasn’t spying, but he was never given a chance to explain. He was beaten during questioning and deactivated from Energon loss.

The Audio Tech felt a cold spot in the cell and saw that he had goosebumps on his arm; he had been on enough investigations to know that this was a sign that a spirit was in the cell. He reached his hand out and felt the presence of the disembodied spark.

Nacelle backed up, frightened, he knew English and knew what the human had been saying.

“You can go now,” the Audio Tech spoke softly, “the prison is gone, you’re free to go…”

“I-I can’t,” Nacelle told him. It didn’t matter if it was a man telling him or a guard; he was too afraid.

The Audio Tech played his tape recorder back, and heard a whisper so faint, he struggled to hear, but he finally was able to make out, “I-I can’t.”

“Oh, wow,” the Audio Tech played it back again, “I-I can’t.”

He played it back a third time, “I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” the Audio Tech told the ghost in a reassuring voice, “it’s okay now…”

Nacelle watched as the human pushed the prison door open in order to simulate the release.

“The door is open now,” the Audio Tech smiled, “you’re free to go now.”

And with that, Nacelle’s spirit floated out of the cell.

 

But the Lead Investigator was not finding any ghosts yet. He walked across the second-floor catwalk, holding his thermal camera out in front of himself, looking for any cold spots that would indicate a spirit was present.

“ARE THERE ANY SEEKERS HERE?!” his voice bellowed through the entire structure, “WE CAME ALL THE WAY FROM EARTH TO TALK TO YOU!”

But the ghosts were frightened by his booming voice.

 

The Cinematographer made his way into the kitchen area. He tried using the EMF meter, “Is there anyone here?” he asked softly.

A mist-like figure was floating slowly across his inferred camera.

“Whoa,” the Cinematographer realized what he was seeing, “Is there someone who wants to communicate with me?”

Bitstream realized the man could see him, “Please…be careful.”

The Cinematographer played back his tape recorder, and heard the dead Seeker’s keens, “Please…be careful.”

Just to be sure, he replayed the tape again, “Please…be careful.”

He rewound and played it back a third time, “Please…be careful.”

“Oh, wow,” the Cinematographer got on his walkie-talkie, “Zak, I’ve got something in the kitchen.”

“What do you have?” the Lead Investigator asked.

“There’s a Seeker in the kitchen area,” the Cinematographer replied, “I think he’s saying, ‘Please, be careful.’ I think he’s trying to warn us about something.”

“He’s trying to warn us about something?” the Lead Investigator repeated back, “What’s he trying to warn us about?” he looked around now, stepping towards the railing and looking down on the first floor; he yelled out, “WHAT IS HERE THAT YOU WANT TO WARN US ABOUT?!”

But his voice was so loud, Bitstream vanished, hiding again.

The Cinematographer saw the image was gone from his EMF meter, “Whoever he is, he’s gone now.”

The Lead Investigator was getting frustrated with his lack of evidence, he radioed to the Second Investigator now, “Aaron, I need you to investigate the gas chamber!”

“Ah man,” the Second Investigator groaned, “why does he always send ME to the worst places?” 

Regardless, he made his way there now.

“Did you lose your life in there?” the Second Investigator peered into the humongous space, “does anyone want to say anything to me?”

Nova Storm thought about it, and decided to answer, “I’m here…” he also managed to kick a rock across the gas chamber, echoing throughout the building.

The Second Investigator gasped, “What was that?” he waved the camera in the direction of the sound, “Is there someone here that wants to talk?”

“Yes?” Nova Storm answered.

The Second Investigator checked his spirit box now; the device translated Vosian to English, “Yes?”

The Second Investigator gasped out loud, “WHOA!” he held out his spirit box in front of himself now, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Like the human, Nova Storm was stunned that he could communicate with this man, he answered now, “I’m here.”

The Second Investigator heard the spirit vocal through his device; he repeated it back aloud, “I’m here! You said you’re here! Who are you? What’s your name?”

“Nova Storm,” the dead Seeker answered.

“Nova Storm,” the Second Investigator repeated back, “is that your name, Nova Storm?”

“Yes,” The dead Seeker decided that if this human were going to hurt him, he would have done it by now; perhaps he was friendly?

“Come on out,” the Second Investigator spoke kindly, “let me see you.”

Nova Storm came forward, stepping out of the gas chamber, easily passing through the rusted bars.

“My name is Aaron,” the Second Investigator smiled, “it’s alright, you’re free now,” he put his hand out.

Nova Storm looked back at the gas chamber, fearing something would happen if he tried to leave.

“I know that you’re innocent, man,” the Second Investigator told him in a reassuring tone, “you don’t have to stay here anymore.”

The giant Seeker reached his hand out to the human; their hands touched.

“Oh my God,” the Second Investigator felt his hand become cold, and the hairs on his arm stood straight up, “Dude, it just got so cold in here,” before again addressing the spirit, “You’re free now,” the Second Investigator assured him, “you can go in peace.”

And with that, Nova Storm’s spirit flew up out of the gas chamber.

Then he heard the Lead Investigator’s voice come through his walkie-talkie again, “Let’s regroup back at the Warden’s office and review our evidence.”


End file.
